Save Him
by dwarrowlass
Summary: Set after the end of the 2nd season, in an AU - a new bride has arrived for Sir Guy. The story is told from her POV. No name or physical description, so it's easy to imagine yourself in her place. Rating M for some sexy language. Very mild angst. UPDATE: I intended this to be shorter but it just kept growing! (Aaand that's what she's said.) But now I'm done! : )
1. Chapter 1

Guy muttered and shifted a little from side to side. I hoped that he was waking, but after a moment he subsided. I couldn't ignore his shallow breathing and the blood that seeped, more gently now, but wetly shining, from his head. Still I couldn't help but urge, in a whisper, "Wake up. Wake up."

I looked from his dark eyelashes fluttering against his pale face, to the swordpoint leveled at my chest, and the cold even gaze of the man who held the weapon. How did it come to this? I wondered.

…

I was hungry and cold, stiff and sore, jolted by the carriage, sick with anticipation and the local inn's breakfast eels. I was going to meet the man who would be my husband. We had not so much as exchanged a letter, but in less than a mile, I would meet him and take his measure.

The rumors of outlaws in the woods seemed almost a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my mind. But we emerged from the forest unmolested, and rode through the gates of the town of Nottingham. The movement of the carriage shifted and became more jarring on the cobblestones, and my baggage leaped about more alarmingly than before. I gulped. I had grown up in a stately home adjacent to a small village, and passed the last few years in a similar style; Nottingham may as well have been the ancient city of Camelot, so bustling and unfamiliar was it.

Large buildings of cut stone flanked me on either side, towering above the carriage. I let the curtain drop. It was barren and overwhelming. I was hemmed in on all sides, trees and farmland alike hidden from view. Oh please, I thought, let my man be kind. Let this new life be at least a little kinder than the life I left.

The carriage drew to a halt. I heard the shouts of guards and porters. My large trunk was being unbuckled from the back of the carriage, and judging from the jingling of tack, the horses were being unhitched. I had arrived.

I sat bolt upright on the hard seat, wincing from the bruises on my behind, but determined to confront whatever lay without with full composure. Don't show weakness, I had learned. Be a lady. Cold, distant, untouchable. But please let him be kind.

"So the bride has arrived!" a sneering voice announced. "Very good. Let's see the blushing beauty!"

"Yes, sir," a quiet voice murmured, a servant's voice, and I watched the handle of the door, waiting for it to turn.

A face was thrust through the curtains of the carriage window. I started. It was a stocky older man, with a salt-and-pepper beard and a mocking smile which revealed a broken tooth. He had a cloak of some rich material buckled around his shoulders. He looked me up and down and I clutched my stole more tightly. "She looks like a breeder," he said, and increased the sting of his outrageous comment with a further sneer. He withdrew his face and with a raucous laugh said loudly, "The goods have been delivered!"

The carriage door was opened and I steeled myself for the strange man's continued insolence, but instead the person standing there was almost comedically handsome. It was a much younger man, tall and strapping with broad shoulders. He had a finely drawn face with a long nose and a strong jaw, very blue eyes and hair as dark and shining as a crow's wing. The guards and coachman had treated me like a breakable piece of luggage, my host like a prize heifer, but this man's expression, though aloof, by comparison was almost warm. He looked at me like a person.

"Please, sir," I asked, and my voice came out as a croak. I swallowed. "Please – will you tell me if that man is to be my husband?"

I looked at the stranger's back. He was berating a peasant about the head with a roll of parchment, evidently the cargo manifest on which I was listed. He was richly appointed. I had been told I was being sent to marry a knight. I felt sick.

"Him?" The dark stranger at my door followed my gaze. He sounded startled. "No, milady, that is the Sheriff of Nottingham."

"Then who?"

A smile, thin and cool but undeniable, tugged at his lips. "Well – me."

"Oh!" I couldn't hide the relief I felt, or the pleasure, or the embarrassment. I tried to force my smile into a more demure expression but it kept breaking out. He ducked his head, perhaps to discourage my open admiration, but his smile widened in return.

My husband would be handsome. So far, at least, he was not cruel.

He offered me a leather-clad arm. "Shall I escort you to your chamber, milady?"

I placed my hand on his arm and stepped down from the carriage, my exhaustion and the limp-doll feeling I experienced at the sudden end to uncertainty making the support necessary rather than polite. I felt the corded muscles of his strong arm and thanked my lucky stars. "Yes, please, Sir Guy."


	2. Chapter 2

The man with the sword stared at me. He had a handsome, impish face on which cold rage sat like a stranger. "We will wait till this worm wakes," he said flatly. "And then I will kill you."

With half my mind I cast about for a weapon or some means of escape, but the other half knew it was pointless. I had nothing to strike back with and nowhere to run. But I continued to stand. I would not kneel to my murderer.

"But why?" I asked.

"He killed my bride as I watched. Now I will kill his. I want him to be alive to the pain, to watch, to suffer as I have suffered – then and only then, will I execute him."

"Robin Hood," I said. "You are he."

"I am."

I took a deep, shuddering breath. I had every reason to believe he would keep true to his word. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry about what happened to the Lady Marian. But please – please have mercy for Guy."

…

A hot bath, tendered by silent but not unfriendly maids, and a fresh dress eased my mood – and my bruises – wonderfully. Dinner had been an ordeal. The Sheriff presided over the meal with sarcastic good humor and terrible manners, tearing through pheasant and heaping insults over everyone sharing the table, myself included. He seemed to think of me as a lump-brained brood-mare, but I stayed mute. I would not encourage his sallies with a response.

I confess I was surprised that Sir Guy did not defend me, but he seemed distant. He too came in for a fair share of abuse. I suppose use may have inured him to it. Hesitantly I tried to converse with him once or twice, but after the second terse answer and the Sheriff squawking, "She talks! Give the parrot a cracker!", I ceased my efforts. Dinner was a long, unfriendly affair, but I was used to unpleasant meals. Still, I was glad to return to my room.

My trunk and bags had been settled, and some of my dresses and hose were airing, so I was surrounded by familiar objects. There was a generous hearth with a bright fire, and a thick rug that was kind to my feet, as well as rush matting scattered before the door. The windows were large but barred; they faced away from the town, so the air was fresh and the noise of the townspeople tolerable. I would stay here until the wedding and then relocate to Guy's estate.

I sat on a low stool before the fire, thinking with equanimity of the down-filled mattress awaiting me, while a maid brushed my hair with a hundred strokes.

A tap sounded at the door. Before I could answer, it opened of its own accord, and my husband-to-be stepped within.

He dismissed my maid with a nod. I rose, feeling very conscious of my bare feet and my unbound hair, and glad for the thickness of my dressing gown. The door shut behind the departing girl and I was aware of the nearby bed in a very different way.

Sir Guy stepped forward. My heart thundered. "I apologize for your reception," he said stiffly. "The Sheriff – is not interested in making friends."

I nodded.

He stepped forward again and took my hand. Despite his knighthood – and knight was the lowest rank my guardian had considered foisting me on – he had a working man's hands, bedecked with little scars and rough patches. "I hope you will not be too unhappy here."

"Thank you," I said. "I – I hope so too!"

I laughed, a foolish nervous laugh rather than an expression of mirth. Sir Guy dropped my hand and turned on his heel to depart. He paused at the door and turned back, pacing towards me in three swift steps. There was a look upon his face, less distant than before but more dangerous.

He trailed the back of his knuckles along my face and stared at my lips. I shivered, wondering if he intended to take his husband's rights then and there. It was bound to happen eventually. I was determined not to be afraid. Abruptly, he said, "I killed the last woman who was to be my wife."

My stomach turned over. His face was open when he spoke; anger, shame, guilt, self-disgust were all in evidence, and a little hunger too. My guardian had mentioned offhandedly that Sir Guy's fiancée had died. I had not inquired further. But I was alone here. I had only myself.

I was frightened but not weak.

I gripped his hand in my own, and said, my voice sounding schoolteacher-ish but strong to my own ears, "You will not harm me. You will not raise a hand against me in violence – only love."

Sir Guy's fingers curled around mine. He closed the gap between us. I could feel his warm breath on my lips. His gaze burned into mine. "I will not harm you. And you will not betray me with another man," he said huskily.

"I will not betray you with another man," I repeated. I added dryly, "Do you agree to these terms?"

I intended my comment to relieve the tension, but instead Guy kissed me. He kissed me like he was clinging on to life, wrapping his arms around me, his mouth working on mine, questing and demanding. I had come prepared to be lonely. I came prepared for boorishness, for indifference, for drunkenness, for demands upon my body that the marriage contract would force me to satisfy. I was not prepared for the sense of danger, the lightning changes of mood. I was even less prepared for the answering wave of desire that rose within me.

The man who had been intended as my husband before he died in the Crusades had given me the occasional chaste and courtly kiss. This was utterly unlike that. I wanted to surrender myself to Guy. When he lifted me by the waist and placed me on the edge of the bed, pushing between my legs, I pulled aside my dressing gown so I could draw him even closer. His arms slid beneath the robe and began desperately tugging at the laces of my stays. His tongue slipped between my lips, and then his mouth travelled along the line of my jaw, my neck, my ear.

"Wait," I said, almost panting.

Sir Guy released me at once. He practically recoiled. Springing from me, he stalked to the fire and stood staring at it, his back to the bed. I stood up and straightened my skirts.

"I apologize for my ardor," he said huskily.

I followed and stood behind him. I grew up in farmland; I knew what the straining of his leather trousers meant, and did not wish to inflame him further, past the point of control. "It's not that – that is, I mean to say – your ardor is my ardor. You are going to be my husband. But…"

I trailed off and he looked at me from the corner of his eye. "When we are together – I cannot expect you to love me, we met but hours ago, but…I want you to think of me. Not the girl you killed. Not…what was her name?"

Sir Guy stood very still. "Lady Marian," he rasped, and swiftly departed.


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you know of Lady Marian?" Robin Hood asked, his eyes hard and his sword unwavering.

"Some," I admitted. "Not all. Some Guy told me; after I learned her name, I asked among the servants."

"And what did you learn?"

"She was lovely and very kind. She always tended to the villagers' needs as well as she could." I took a deep breath. "She was stolen by Robin Hood on her wedding day to Guy."

"And then?"

"He pursued you both to the Holy Land, where she was slain."

"He slew her."

"Yes."

"He admitted it?"

"Yes."

"Then how can you defend him – this woman-killer? This slaughterer of innocents?"

"_I_ am innocent!" I cried, momentarily distracted.

Robin Hood laughed harshly. "And yet you beg mercy for him! You come here to marry him! You claim to know of his crimes! How can _you_ be innocent?"

I was suddenly filled with anger. How dare this criminal judge me! Revile Guy for his sins, and seek to repeat them! "I didn't ask to be sold into this marriage," I hissed. "You wish to know how I came to be here?" I wanted to talk, to scream. It had been so long since I had someone to talk to. I draw myself up, and cried, "I was to be wed three years ago! I had no family of my own, so I lived under the guardianship of those who were to be my father- and mother-in-law. When my fiancé died, fighting in the King's Crusade, they could not banish me from their house; but they never liked me, and after Aelfric's death they had no cause to hide it. I was hated, never allowed to feel that I belonged. Home was a cold hearth and an empty bowl. They begrudged me everything, and when they no longer wished to shelter and feed me, they offered my dowry onwards to anyone who would have me, merely to be rid of me.

The Sheriff obliged; he was happy to have the money, and hoped to gain my guardian's support, and the use of my guardian's soldiers. He gave me to Guy because he couldn't be bothered to break me himself.

Guy could beat me and rape me! He could treat me like a straw dummy in the practice yard. I have no father or brothers; no powerful friends! Instead, he was kind to me. He protects me in a way even Aelfric could not." I looked down upon my betrothed. My temper softened. He was so fragile, lying there. A piercing sliver of blue showed beneath his dark lashes. I willed him to rest a little longer – to let both of us live until he woke. "If you think I'm going to turn my back on my only friend, I have nothing to fear, because you are too foolish to even know how to use that sword."

I sunk down beside Guy and settled his head in my lap, not caring about the bloodstains on my woolen gown. I bent over him, pulling my hair forward to create a curtain over his sleeping face, and bared the back of my neck. I waited for the killing blow.


	4. Chapter 4

Robin Hood sighed. His sword settled softly on the dirt. "I bear you no personal ill-will, milady," he said.

I felt calmer. I was not dead. "You will not achieve your goal by killing me. He still loves only her."

"_He killed her."_

"He did! But what you must understand is that something awful came to life the moment he did, and it died in the same breath. The worst part of him choked on shame and regret. He would undo it if he could, and God willing, Sir Guy will never harm another innocent person again. When Marian died, she gave him a chance to be saved. If you kill me – though he loves me not – you only breathe life into the beast within him."

Robin sighed again. He looked very weary. "Then I will kill him and spare you."

"You would then punish me, and only me," I said softly. "He does not love life, either."

Robin crumpled to his heels and buried his face in his hands. The violence fled from him. "I miss her so much," he whispered.

We sat in silence for a time.

…

That very morning, before Guy and I took the ride that ended in our attack and capture, and the afternoon spent with my would-be executioner, he said to me, "I miss her so much."

I didn't ask who; there was no need. There had been more moments of stolen passion, broken off abruptly when the wrong name quivered on his lips. Times when he looked at me and saw her. No threats of violence, but occasional flashes of anger, anger I hoped I could tame with a devotion that was growing more slavish the more time I spent with him. He was my only companion here. I became obsessed with finding the good within him; our wedding was but three days away.

He sheltered me from the Sheriff and saw to my wants. He gave me affection, of a sort. He quickened my heart and my loins, and so what, I asked myself, if when he finally lays me down to complete the act of love, if he sees another woman lying there? I know the truth. I would give myself to him utterly if it would save him.

We rode a way they sometimes rode together; that is why, I suppose, Robin Hood found us so easily. He fell upon Guy from the trees, cracked him across the back of the head with the hilt of his sword, and brought us both to a hut so small and dark and musty that it felt like the mouth of some fallen giant. I thought I would die here, but it seemed I would be spared. I prayed that Robin listened and understood; that he would give me more time to save Guy, to help him become the good man I knew he was.

Guy awoke. He raised a hand and tangled it in my falling hair. "Where am I?" he asked blearily.

"Hush, dear," I said quietly. "Rest, Don't talk." But of course it was too late; Robin Hood looked up, alert.

Guy tried to move and winced with pain, but his eyes darted around the hut. They lighted on Robin Hood.

"Go!" he croaked to me, struggling to rise.

"I will not go," I said, pressing upon his shoulders to keep him still. "Hush. I will not leave you."

"Go," he said weakly, groping for a weapon. Robin had left Guy's sword far behind in the forest. I was the only defense he had.

"No," I said.

Robin rose. I encircled Guy's neck with my arms, shielding him with my body. Not roughly, Robin pushed me away. "Peace, villain," he said scornfully. "You do not die today, and neither does this lady."

As bold as I had acted, I could not prevent a sigh of relief. "Thank you," I murmured.

"But, monster –" Robin slapped him lightly on both sides of the face, making sure he was alert enough to understand. "I swear to you this: I will not harm this woman, but if you ever dare to love her, _I will take her from you_." He turned the full force of his blue-green gaze upon me. I swiftly and strongly realized his charm could be a dangerous weapon as well. Softly, he said, "There will always be shelter for you in the forest."

Then he tweaked Guy's nose, rose, spat disdainfully on the floor by Guy's hand, and strode from the hut into the concealment of the trees.

Guy groaned with pain at the slamming of the door. "Easy, darling!" I said, stroking his brow.

Guy looked at me. Suddenly, I felt he was looking at me, truly me, and seeing me for who I was. "You won't leave?" he asked, sounding afraid.

My heart swelled. "No, Guy, I won't leave."

With mingled exhilaration and fear, I thought for the first time that Robin might have to make good on his threat. Guy was gazing at me as a woman, not a ghost.

With a great effort he placed his hand on the back of my neck and drew my lips to his. "Good," he murmured.

When he kissed me instead of her, his lips tasted even sweeter.


	5. Chapter 5

I was anxious about making good on my promise to Guy not to leave. His lapses into unconsciousness were becoming shorter and less frequent but I wished a physician would examine him; I did not want to move him until one could. That is, if I could even move him – he was nearly a foot taller and three or four stone heavier than I. It worried me that it was so easy to restrain his occasional attempts to rise. But how could I possibly carry his body all the way to the castle without damaging him further?

And yet, how I could summon help without leaving him alone? I wondered. Luckily, the question was resolved for me. Robin Hood had released our horses after bringing us to this place, and they found their way back to the castle. I had fretted for no more than an hour, and there was still light in the sky, when a small contingent of guards found us.

They brought two extra horses, either for us or our bodies. Guy had roused enough to ride, but I insisted on sharing his mount, to anchor him to the saddle with my arms and legs if need be. It was a tense and silent ride, with no explanations asked or given. From my seat I could see in gory detail the wound on the back of his head with long dark hair matted in it, but it no longer bled freely, and the warmth of his back against my chest was comforting. I discovered later we had been kept in an old apothecary's hut; Robin Hood had brought us there in a roundabout fashion, but in truth we were not far from the city's walls.

As we returned to the castle, night fell. The Sheriff demanded an immediate private audience with Sir Guy; I left him there, swaying on his feet. "I want to stay," I insisted, but I was removed firmly by guards and passed to servants who clucked over me, combed my hair and examined me for evidence of ill-use.

"Robin did not lay a hand on me," I told them, but they gave no indication of hearing. "Please, send for a physician. Sir Guy needs aid."

"Never mind, lovey," the plump mistress of the bath told me, and bustled me into a nightgown.

"I do mind," I said. "I mind very much."

They took no more notice of me than if I were a recalcitrant child. I was bundled into bed and given a beaker of warm wine. When I was finally left alone, I rose and went to the door, but the guards stationed without would not let me pass.

"Let me go to Sir Guy!" I said.

They did not speak or move, no matter how I commanded or pleaded. Their broad bodies blocked the doorway with no room for me to slip by. Finally I returned to bed and fell into a fitful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So perhaps this is a good time to note that I am not advocating that a relationship like this one with Guy is healthy, or a model for a situation any partner should be in. But man. He is something worth looking at. Back to the story!

…

I awoke not long after dawn. My bed was uncomfortably warm – the fire had been stoked and blankets draped over me as though I were an invalid, and pale-gold sunlight streamed through the window.

Restlessly I kicked my legs free and stood. Out of the constricting blankets, my sweat was chilling, and I wrapped a dressing gown around myself and went to the door.

The two guards – the same men? Different? Who could tell in their full helmets? – stood there still. "I wish for breakfast," I told one imperiously. "May I go to the kitchen? I did not eat dinner or supper yesterday, and I'm famished."

They exchanged looks. After some hesitation, one bowed. "I will bring you food, milady," he said, his voice muffled. "The new bread should be baked." With another glance at his partner, neither sure they were doing the right thing, he departed.

"And you!" I said to the other. "Bring me my maid!"

"But the Sheriff – "

"I require her," I said. "For womanly reasons. At once!" I clutched my stomach and glared.

He was of two minds about it but finally he left as well. I waited for him to round the corner, heading in the same direction as the kitchen, and then slipped into the hallway. I had only the vaguest idea of where Guy was quartered. I chose the opposite direction from my gatekeepers, and followed the hallway to a stone stair. I chose up. When Guy had visited my room, I reasoned, he was not clad in outdoor gear, so he was bound to be on my side of the courtyard. Down just let to the outdoors.

I came to a landing and had to choose. Into the hallway that lay before me, or up another flight of stairs? I went up again. I had never heard footsteps on the floor above me; perhaps it was uninhabited. I was unlikely to, given the thickness of the stone walls and floors, but it was the little all I had to go on.

The stairs tightened into a spiral, and there were no landings for some time. Finally I reached another splitting point. He would not live at the top of the tower, I decided. From what I knew of the Sheriff, he would reserve those rooms – inconvenient for the servants, private, with the most commanding views – for his personal use. I did not wish to run into him. Instead, I turned down a rather dark hall. Most of the rooms were empty, the doors unlatched. I trailed my fingers along them. Finally I reached one where the door would not yield to gentle pressure, and when I examined it further, a glow of firelight came from beneath it. Unlike my room, it faced inwards, so it did not receive the morning sun.

I said a brief prayer and turned the handle. The door opened quietly and I stepped within. Empty. Despite the small fire in the grate, there was no-one there. The room was sparsely furnished and looked more like an office than a bedroom, and I was about to depart when I heard a shifting noise from a small antechamber beyond.

Carefully I peeked around the tapestry that divided the space. Guy! He was sleeping in a spare bed in a tiny chamber that looked like it belonged to a soldier, with no fireplace and no window. My heart went out to him. Why deny himself these small and harmless luxuries? I knew he was ashamed of his great sin, but this penance could not help poor Marian. "Guy," I whispered, sitting on the bed beside him.

The thin coverlet was pulled only halfway up his chest, despite the chill in the room. I settled it more firmly around him, over his bare shoulders. I pulled off my robe and placed that over him as well. He turned his head and I could see his pillowcase was clean; his wound had been neatly stitched, and he slept calmly, no sign of a fever, thank God.

The muscle running from his collarbone to behind his ear pulsed gently. He looked so vulnerable, his face set in lines of old pain, but I had never seen so much of his body and it was broad and strong. Since my whisper had not woken him, I allowed myself to trail a fingertip along his jawline, the side of his neck, and along the curve of one muscular shoulder.

Aelfric had been handsome, too, in his way. He had golden hair and tan skin and a nice face. I would have been safe and happy with him, though he would often be campaigning. He was the baronet's second son and a career soldier. I would have lived with his family, as I had after his death. It occurred to me suddenly it would have been no better if we were wed. I might have had a bairn to occupy me, but how many intimate mornings would we experience together? How often could I watch him as I watched Guy, slumbering peacefully, with his bones and muscles standing starkly under his pale skin? Or would I always wake in an empty bed?

Of course, my intimacy with Guy was all in my imagination. He had no idea I was even near. I removed my hand, hoping I had not taken advantage of him, but then he woke.

He looked puzzled, then pleased, and then suddenly his expression was shuttered. "Milady," he said, unreadable.

"Sir Guy!" I said, and then, impulsively, "I was so afraid!"

He straightened and the bedclothes fell away from him. His arms and chest were bare and gleaming. I could see his fine dark hair tracing patterns on him, thickening on the rolling muscles on his stomach and leading a trail deeper into the bed. Though I could not see what he was thinking, he extended his arms to me, and I tumbled into them. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tucked my face into the crook of his neck. His wound must have been cleaned thoroughly, for he smelled of soap and sharp herbs, of leather, and of man. I breathed deep and felt his arms relax around me.

I lay half across his chest, my feet still on the floor, but rose to to tip-toe to embrace him more fully. His large hand traced gentle circles on the small of my back, and I could his feel his warmth through the thin cambric of my nightgown.

"Hush," he whispered grittily. "Robin Hood will not harm you. He will never get near you again." His deep voice thrummed in his chest and I felt it in mine.

I couldn't explain that I was frightened for Guy, not for myself. I had been afraid that Robin Hood would kill him or beat him further, and I was afraid that the Sheriff would let him suffer and maybe die of his wounds. I would be grateful when, after the wedding, we could settle in Locksley. There Guy would be master and I would only have to protect him from himself.

The touch of his hand changed. No longer giving comfort, it sought – something, some rising hunger that was swift to answer. I scrambled on to the bed, uncaring that my stockings were exposed from foot to knee. Guy's hand slid around my body to cup my breast. I wore no corset, no stays, only a silk chemise under my nightgown. His thumb brushed my nipple and I quivered. I raised my head from his neck to kiss him, but he bent his head and kissed my breast above the neckline of the gown.

Fierce desire woke within me, never far at bay when I was with Guy. I could feel his manhood grow hard against my thigh as his mouth drifted across my chest. I felt his lips and tongue through the cloth, and when his tongue sought and found my nipple I gasped, leaning into the sensation. His tongue played little circles around it while his firm grip massaged my other breast.

I moaned. My response was more than physical; I had lost my heart to him. Guy had stolen over me like a sickness. My feelings for him were dark and hot, and there was nothing safe or mild about them. I didn't want merely to be happy with him; I no longer hoped only for kindness; I wanted something more, something like this.

I moved my hands across his bare shoulders and back. I ran my fingers through his hair, careful to avoid his stitches, though when I brushed them and he winced he only pulled me closer. His mouth sought my other nipple while his hand lit on my thigh, and slid upwards, to the top of my stockings. His fingers found bare skin.

I gasped, at the coolness of his touch, and with pleasure, and he glanced up. Our eyes met. There was a moment of sympathy and of attraction. He could clearly see my love for him. And in his face I read – hope.

"No," he said, pushing me away, his voice rough. "No. I will not risk it."

I was tumbled, confused and out of breath. "There is no risk! There are but two more mornings till our wedding!"

He stared at me, his beautiful eyes cold and distant. "I cannot let myself love you. Not even with –" He raised his hands and let them fall. "Not even with my body."

"Please," I pleaded. "Robin won't take me away. He _can't_. He will not make good on his threat."

"You know him so well?" he snapped, and I jumped back. Guy heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry." His grip was gentle on my shoulders as he moved me away. "I cannot feel that pain again."

He rose and pulled on a tunic, facing away from me. Nonetheless I could see his breeches could barely contain his desire and I marveled at his control. I would not have stopped; soon I could not. "You should return to your chamber," he said, or rather ordered. "The castle will not be awake for some time yet."

I gathered my fallen robe and pulled it tight over my shaking body. Wordlessly I left. I walked down the stairs and the hall to my room. The guards were back outside my door, arguing in low, swift voices over how to handle my escape. They fell silent when they saw me. I held my head high and reentered my room, where my maid awaited me, and I allowed her to dress me for the day.

Today, and one day more after that. I thought. Then Guy will not be able to send me away. I hoped he could not resist me. But I would leave nothing to chance. "Jenny," I asked, breaking the silence. "Tell me – where can I have a dress made in a hurry?"


	7. Chapter 7

By all accounts, Lady Marian had dressed modestly but well. She favored rich colors and demure, classic cuts and often let her hair fall naturally. On our wedding night, I would make sure nothing about me would remind him of her.

I was lucky to have a small, carefully marshaled inheritance, in addition to my dowry, which passed out of my hands long ago. A new dress would be expensive, especially in the city, but within my means – particularly as my means would be my new husband's means soon enough, so I might as well enjoy them while I could. As the tailor worked within the shadow of the city walls, I was permitted to visit him with only a maid as chaperone. My guards – who I learned had been stationed to protect me, not imprison me, foolish as I was – remained behind. Walking through the city with my maid carrying my reticule, I felt surprisingly light and free.

I had arrived in Nottingham less than three weeks prior and the streets were still strange to me. But the hustle and bustle of merchants, porters, servants and street-sellers was lively and fun. The city no longer seemed so frightening. I hope not, after being held hostage yesterday, I thought drily. I would be a poor spirit indeed if I could not face a crowd looking to sell trinkets and skewered meat.

I felt almost like I was waking from a fever. My head cleared and my spirits lifted. For the first time, I was walking through the world without the scorn of the Sheriff to restrain me, or the brooding presence of my bridegroom to occupy my every thought. Our shared passion that morning seemed strange and remote now. For the first time it occurred to me if I wouldn't do better to steel my spirits against Sir Guy, and his shifting moods. After all, he had killed a defenseless woman!

I was uneasy. True, I was attracted to him. I really felt that he was good inside. But since the moment my guardian had announced I was to marry him, until now, he had loomed larger in my world than any other concern. I had been possessed by his good looks, his damage, the sensual way he made me feel – but ought I to pursue safety? Not fleeing in reality, of course, but attempting to curb my feelings, and to protect myself from his pain. When looking at his blue eyes I couldn't picture him harming me, but I had no reason to believe he wouldn't if he liked to. At least I could keep my heart apart.

_There is always shelter for me in the forest,_ I remembered. The outlaw's promise seemed sincere. But I had promised Guy I would never betray him, and running towards his enemy because of an imaginary crime that had not yet occurred would be a betrayal of the lowest sort. My thoughts ran so quickly that I was surprised when the maid said, "Milady, we're here." It seemed like my feet had hardly touched the road.

I pushed aside my conflict for the moment and entered the tailor's shop. I had been told that the tailor enjoyed the patronage of the upper class, and this was reflected in the rich bolts of cloth he had on display. I ran my hands over supple leather, which reminded me of Guy. A slubby silk that rustled under my fingers, and I pictured Guy pushing it off my shoulder. Heavy velvets, soft suede and thin, tightly woven linen all seemed to have more presence, and I felt them more meaningfully, as if Guy had awoken me to sensation itself. Merciful heavens, I thought, I was throbbing at the very thought of him. I stepped back and hurriedly wound my hands in my skirt.

The tailor emerged and bowed. "How may I serve you, milady?"

"I need a dress." My voice came out louder than I expected and I cleared my throat. "I am to be married in two days."

"A wedding dress?" He sounded alarmed. "In two days?"

"Not a wedding dress. A dress for…after the wedding."

"Ah." The tailor evaluated my figure critically. I relaxed a little, since he didn't seem to consider me a shameless trollop, and I felt more like a dress form than a woman under his neutral gaze. "That, I can do."

Several hours later, I returned home, my measurements recorded and fabric chosen, a design discussed and soon to begin. I shivered with delight at the thought of the dress. If I could beguile Guy's body, perhaps his heart would follow, as earlier he intimated it must – and no-one could take me away.

As I returned to the castle all thoughts of preserving my own heart faded, as if they never were.

…

I had breakfasted alone, in my room, and I ate the noonday meal in the company of maids, chattering with them more freely than before as we aired and re-folded my trousseau. Dinner was unnerving. The Sheriff was angry and pensive, muttering about Robin Hood's latest foray – evidently he had wasted no time, and robbed a caravan of merchants that very day. Guy did not speak a word. He spent the meal staring at me with an intensity that seemed almost like dislike.

I spent half the night lying awake, heart pounding, listening for a rap on my door, but none ever came.

I thought about visiting him in the morning; but not long after I woke, I saw him in his telltale black armor riding away from the castle. I wondered if he was avoiding me. He certainly seemed to have ridden across the view from my bedroom window deliberately, as though to make it clear he did not want to see me. Was this a good sign? Could he not trust himself around me? Or was he truly indifferent? It mattered not; we would be wed tomorrow.

I spent the day in a haze of nerves and planning, until suppertime, when I begged out of the evening meal – alone with the Sheriff, I thank you, no – and took a horse and a guard to collect my finished dress. It cost a little more than half of my meager purse, but it was truly beautiful. When I returned to my chambers, Jenny spoke.

"Sir Gisborne looked in to attend upon you, milady, and to find why you were not in the dining hall." She indicated a tray placed by the bed, containing some roast fowl, soft white bread, and a precious dish of sugared dates. "He brought you this. The wine is warming by the fire."

I indicated to the guard to leave the package containing my dress, and depart. "And what did you tell him?"

Jenny shrugged. "You did not leave word of your going, milady. I told him I knew not."

My heart sunk in my chest. Would he think me churlish or vengeful, avoiding him in return when in fact I could hardly wait to see him again? Could I have had him all the sooner? "Thank you," I said hollowly. "I'll dine alone."

Jenny curtsied and left me. I ate heartily of my meal, for distress had only sharpened my appetite, and after all it was from Guy. I stared at my new dress, draped over the end of my bed like a vision. I hoped it was worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

My wedding passed like a dream. I was hardly aware of it. The Sheriff planned it – a hurried affair in mid-morning, and then a return to business afterwards. I wore the wedding dress I would have worn for Aelfric, now sadly out of date, but Guy barely saw me so it was of no account. The only time he seemed truly present is when we exchanged our vows. Then he looked at me burningly, and stumbled over the words.

The Sheriff gave me away – practically dropped me at the altar, and wheezed "get on with it" with unpleasant good humor whenever the clergyman paused. At the end of the ceremony, when the clergyman asked, "And do you, Sir Guy – " the Sheriff interrupted to say, "He does, she does, we all do, oo-da-lolly, cut the cake!"

Guy and I both murmured "I do". Our eyes met and for a moment his face softened, which made it sting all the more when he dropped my hands, turned and departed without even a perfunctory kiss.

"Good, good!" the Sheriff crowed. "Time's a-wasting!"

I was left alone in the chapel.

Still, I was grimly determined to go through with my plan. I knelt and prayed, my first conversation with God as a married woman, and then left to prepare.

First I ate a meal; bread and cheese for nourishment, wine to relax, and apples and mint to freshen the breath. Then I was bathed and scrubbed by a team of women; one combed my hair through with spicy-smelling unguents, and another dabbed rosewater on my neck, wrist and ankles. Most of my garments had been repacked and sent onwards to Locksley, but I had retained my finest underthings, pale jade silk embroidered with dark green leaves and delicate pink flowers. I slipped the chemise and drawers on over a girdle and stockings of the best white wool. I slid my feet into a pair of rarely-used dancing slippers, embroidered with thread-of-gold. Finally, my dress – a diaphanous cloud of blues and greens, floating around my body. At every moment the fine cloth threatened to reveal all, clinging especially to my breast and hips, but its many soft layers obscured sight. It was beaded through the waist with green glass beads of little value but great beauty. The hem was cut daringly high in front, and the neckline daringly low. Rather than a row of tiny buttons, tedious to do and undo, it fastened at the back of the neck with a small hook-and-eye, and some thin cords of leather laced at the back to nip in the waist.

A serving woman with some training as a lady's maid dressed my hair high. She braided it across the crown and twisted it into an elaborate knot, secured with many gold hairpins and a gold mesh snood. I forewent any jewelry. When they brought a looking-glass to me, I was delighted by the result. I looked both imposing and enticing – and my new husband could have no doubt that I had prepared myself just for him.

We would spend our marriage night in Nottingham, and ride to Locksley in the morn. He would come to me, here. I sent the maids away, and settled in to wait.


	9. Chapter 9

My solitude had been disturbed but once – a servant entering to the lay the fire when the hour grew late. I sat and embroidered by the hearth, careful of my gown and hair, but feeling strangely calm. He must come. He would come.

Finally, as the last daylight slipped away, he did.

Sir Guy did not announce himself. He strode into my room without knocking, and closed and locked the door behind him. He leant against it for a moment. He seemed to be trying not to look at me. When he finally spoke, his voice made me shiver, for he was angry. "Hello, my wife," he sneered.

"Hello, my husband," I said as evenly as I could, and went to him.

His eyes still cast upon the floor, he whirled on me. His hand encircled my wrist. He was trying to stay true to his word, exerting self-control so his grip would not bruise me. But it was still a manacle. "Where did you go last night, and the day before that?" he asked, dangerously.

"Look and see," I said.

"Did you go to meet _him?"_ His hand tightened.

"_Excuse me?_" I could feel color rise in my cheeks.

"Did you go to consort with Robin Hood?" he hissed.

"Not all women are betrayers, Guy," I said, vehement and cold. I jerked my wrist from his grasp.

Finally he looked up, a snarl distorting his handsome face. It faded and smoothed. "I –" he said, and took a deep shuddering breath. "I'm sorry." He picked up my hand again, this time not struggling to be gentle, and kissed my inner wrist. "You look…" he shook his head, dazzled.

I stepped into the firelight, preening proudly. I felt secure now. He may have wanted to hurt Marian, but when he looked at me, he forgot her. He forgot his pain and his shame.

"My wife," he said, wonderingly. He stepped forward, and I stepped backwards, teasingly, just out of his reach, but beckoning him with a twist of my head to come closer. He reached for me and I stepped away again.

I surprised a smile from him. A light kindled in his face. "Come and kiss me," he said silkily.

I evaded his embrace, and he chuckled, enjoying the dance-like nature – step, and step – of our game. "You didn't want to kiss me earlier," I accused.

"I was wrong. I'm sorry," he said. His smile was very winning. "I'll make up for it now."

"If you catch me first!"

He gathered me into his arms in a single lunging step and pressed my body against his. I caught my breath. He paused and raked his gaze over my body, lingering on the exposed skin of my breasts, and my lips, my eyes. "My wife," he said again, under his breath, as if he could not believe the words. He undid the closure on the back of my bodice by feel.

My heart thundered in my ears. I stepped out of my dancing slippers and kicked them away. Maintaining eye contact, I felt for his belt buckle and unfastened it. I tugged his belt free and dropped it on the floor. Slowly, he placed his hands on the sides of my face. He was alive with anticipation as I was, but by mutual consent we postponed our pleasure as I carefully opened the small buckles and clasps on his leather over-tunic. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and brushing against a hairpin, removed it. One by one they fell with small chiming notes to the floor. He pulled my hair free of its net and cast it aside, and the intricate braid unspooled and fell. He unbraided it, making me feel more completely undressed with that simple act than I could have imagined, and ran his strong hands through it till it waved loosely and my scalp tingled.

I took hold of the end of one the laces at the front of his breeches, and plucked it. The knot fell open.

His control snapped and Sir Guy fell upon me ravenously. I felt his teeth upon my lips, and his tongue sought entry to my mouth. I thrust back against it with my own, and our tongues slid over each other, slippery and strange. I shook with desire, wondering what else his touch could do to me.

Frantically he peeled off his tunic, breaking the contact of our kiss only briefly to pull it over his head, and bearing me down and forward, he pulled off his boots and trousers. He pushed me beneath him, not onto the bed but on the hearth rug, and the firelight stained his bare body red. He was naked except for a tight-fitting pair of small pants, which were beginning to look _too_ small for him.

He fumbled for but could not find the knot at my waist, and instead hiked my skirt up around my thighs. I wrapped my legs around him. He found the garter securing my stocking, and when he could not untie it, he tore at the knot with his teeth, and trailed a line of scorching kisses along my inner thigh. He stripped both of my legs bare and reached under the dress to unhook my corset.

I writhed underneath him, trying to steer his kisses back towards my skin, which was alive with wanting. I raked my fingers through his hair. He reared up, a fire in his eyes, and pulled my corset and drawers loose with one vigorous gesture. He threw them aside and seized my breasts, kneading them in his capable fingers in a way that aroused us both. I wriggled until our faces were aligned and lifted my body from the floor to kiss him.

His hunger shifted and found a rhythm that I responded to. His erection thrust against my womanhood, causing a pleasant tingling in a place I had never felt before. I rubbed myself against him. As I responded to his motions he grunted and redoubled his passion.

I braced my hands on the small of his back to pull myself up to his ear. "I love you, Sir Guy of Gisborne," I whispered. Boldly, I slipped my hand into his pants, and grasped his manhood.

He groaned and almost collapsed. I ran my hand along the length of his penis and he responded like he had been delicately balanced. I felt like a helmsman with the jib of a powerful ship in my hands. I moved faster, back and forth along the shaft, to his increased noisemaking and straining, until finally, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. He removed my hand and pulled his pants off with the other, springing free. Finally I saw my husband totally arrayed before me.

He glowed in the firelight, his half-closed eyes bluer than ever, and his dark hair falling into his face and curling at the ends from sweat and exertion. He was a magnificent beast. He entered me, and I gasped.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

"No," I said, and while that wasn't strictly true, I wanted him to continue. Guy slid in and out of me, and soon I was moving in concert with him, a pleasurable ache growing inside of me. The pressure was building, and I couldn't restrain small gasps and moans.

I lost control of my body and my voice. I arched into him, urging him with my body to thrust faster and faster, until finally a cry burst from my lips and a fiery sensation rolled across my legs and belly, leaving a feeling of glowing relaxation in its wake. He moaned in reply but if anything his pace increased. I scraped my nails along his back and he craned against them. With a toss of his head and a growl, he reached completion, and spent, half-fell and half-lay on top of me.

We lay together. After a while I felt his erection flutter and begin to fade, and my muscles contracted. I would doubtless feel sore later, but for now, for the dreamy sensation and the knowledge I had made him my own, and that we had shared something real together that could not be denied, I was content.

A log collapsed on the fire and cast out a handful of sparks. One landed on Guy's arm. It bloomed and faded in an instant. He started, and we both laughed. Not because it was funny, but because we were happy. He lifted me in his arms, and rising, placed me in the bed. With calmer hands he helped me out of my dress and shift, and we both climbed under the covers.

I was deliciously warm with our bare bodies stretched full-length against each other and his arms around me. His heart was still pounding furiously, but I was drowsy and drifting off. On the edge of waking and sleeping I thought I heard him whisper, "I love you, too."


	10. Epilogue

The next morning I attired myself in a simple brown linen gown I had reserved for the journey. I found a green glass bead lying on the hearthrug and tucked it in a pocket of my shawl with a smile. The maid packed the remainder of my things, and soon the room had no evidence of my stay.

I met Guy in the carriage in the courtyard. We drove off together, towards Locksley. The carriage jolted me, worse than ever, in tender places, but the softness of his eyes and smile made up for that.

However, as we passed through Sherwood Forest, as our journey must take us, a thundercloud descended over my husband's brow. "What is it, Guy?" I asked.

"Robin Hood's threat," he admitted reluctantly.

I had tried to deny it to myself, and now I repeated what I wished to believe. "If he could know, that…that you've come to care for me…" Guy frown rose a little. He chuckled and took my hand, kissing my fingertips as I continued to talk. "Which he couldn't, of course – we still have no reason to believe he'll hurt me. _I _am not afraid," I finished, though my bravado rang a little false.

"As long as we live in Sherwood, he may make good his threat," Guy mused. "I cannot bear to think of you in peril."

A wild inspiration struck me. I had never seen Locksley. I would not miss Nottingham. "Then let's leave," I said. He looked at me, struck.

"But the estate…"

"I don't need an estate, but I can't stand to think of you learning not to love me." I pressed closer to him. "Please. I know my dowry is with us on this coach. It's enough to settle elsewhere. You have your sword. I can sell my jewelry. Why not go?"

Guy opened his mouth to say "no" and then paused to consider. "I wonder…" he said.

He looked at me and began to smile. It was a little mad, a little reckless. He sat up and knocked on the roof of the carriage. "Drive on!" he commanded, and I heard and felt us pick up speed. "Are you sure you have everything you need?" he asked me.

I felt the green bead in my pocket, and looked at our entwined fingers, lying on my lap.

"_Yes."_


End file.
